


Daud is Dead

by Neriad13



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Regret, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7459872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neriad13/pseuds/Neriad13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By removing one person, you change the world for the worse. All passion, all lust, all kindness, all mercy, all envy, all hatred, all love, all sorrow, all indomitable will - gone in the time it takes to slit a throat. I learned not to do that anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daud is Dead

I tower over him, his gut riddled with crossbow bolts, his life spilling away on a crumbling roof above the flooded streets below. I can feel eyes on me - assassins hiding in crevices and corners. Waiting to see what I do next.  
My knife feels heavy in my hand.   
His blood soaks into his whaler’s garb, dying it an even darker shade of red.  
He begs me for his life. Says that he wants to change. That Jessamine was different. That he’s sorry for everything.  
I see him in my mind’s eye, stepping through a hole in the sky. Slapping her like some lippy serving maid. Plunging his knife into her, once, twice.  
He wants to disappear. Who wouldn’t, after what he did?  
I hear Emily screaming again, snatched up in leather-clad arms and pulled into the Void. She still has nightmares. I peer through the slats of the window at night, perched on the ledge like a gargoyle, watching her toss and turn. Not wanting to break the spell when it took so long for her to fall asleep.   
He stares at me, silently. Daring me to end it. I wonder if he’s scared.  
I remember being locked in a hole in the ground, the rats nibbling at my toes. He’s going to sell me for the bounty on my head.  
I do not have clean hands. I’ve killed those who have gotten in my way, who have caught a glimpse of my metal face prowling the night. Shot a man who was due to marry. Choked the voice of his fiancé from her body and laid her next to her love.  
By removing one person, you change the world for the worse. All passion, all lust, all kindness, all mercy, all envy, all hatred, all love, all sorrow, all indomitable will - gone in the time it takes to slit a throat. I learned not to do that anymore.   
Life feeds into Life, the only currency that matters.   
My knife shakes in my hand.   
I see her dying.   
I’m helpless to stop it.  
I grit my teeth, tightening my grip on the knife. I can feel every shift in the wind, every ripple of motion. They’re all watching me. Waiting breathlessly.  
I hate him.   
I duck behind the master assassin, feigning walking away, my strides slow and purposeful, the knife, an extension of my very being now. It fits under his jaw like it was made for it. He doesn’t even feel the cut.  
He gasps, the last breath of air spilling from his lungs, spiraling into the noonday sky. He crumbles into ashes, dust spilling from empty clothes.   
I dig through the burned-out fire that was once the Knife of Dunwall. There’s a brass key, coated in soot. I tuck it in my pocket hurriedly, my every sense on the alert, my muscles poised for action. They had to have seen. They cannot be pleased.  
I run for the locked door, my feet pounding on rotting floors, my every breath bouncing back as a echo off of bare walls. They’re coming for me now. I stumbled through their hideout, I killed their leader. They can’t suffer me to live any longer.  
They zap in and out of reality around me with a sound like ears being turned inside-out. I fight them, blocking and parrying with my bloodied blade, blasting them back with a gust of wind.   
I jam the key into the door and hurl myself into the pit below.   
I lie in the darkness, crawling things creeping between my knees, the stench of the sewers soaking into my flesh once again. I can’t hear them anymore.  
I begin trudging through the muck and filth. Back to Emily, to home, whatever form that might take. One last mission to right the final wrong.   
There are lanterns burning ahead.   
I realize that the knife is still in my hand.   
The blood is drying on it now, like a thin coating of rust.   
My hand is shaking.   
I pull the mask from my face, feeling confined and sick. It slips from my fingers, dropping into the sewage below and sinking to the bottom. My knees give out from under me and I fall after it.   
A weight sits on my shoulders that wasn’t there before and has never left since.

***

I tower over him, my knife in my hand. He lies defeated at my feet, cowering and small now. He begs me for his life. He apologizes for everything.   
I smile sadly as I listen to his speech once again, though he can’t see it beneath the mask. He eyes me warily, wondering what exactly I’ll do next. He remembers what happened last time. I can see it in his face.  
I consider my options for the space of a second. With a flourish, I snap my knife closed and slip it into my pocket.   
It feels wrong. This is what I wanted. What I worked toward, what I dreamed of. An apology, of sorts.   
But it was not what happened.   
I sigh, walking towards the destiny I aspired to, but was never worthy of.   
Daud is dead. My sin remains. 


End file.
